Ever After
by fructoselollipop
Summary: In the aftermath of magic making it's mysterious appearance in Storybrooke, Regina - now back to full strength and with nothing to lose - does all in her power to keep the town under her yoke. Rumpelstiltksin continues to operate on his own agenda, leaving the citizens to fend for themselves against the Mad Queen in the never ending war of good and evil.
1. Chapter One: Grace

Today is one of those days when Grace feels exactly her age. Papa explained it to her: 28 years had passed since the Evil Queen cast her curse and sent everyone to Storybrooke. Or, at least, it had been 28 years to the world outside, and inside the minds of those who were able to keep their memories (like Papa). But within the town itself, time was frozen. Every year they started over as if the previous one had never happened at all. No one ever aged and, since nothing new ever happened, no one could really remember the long years they spent in Storybrooke. So, while most of the time Grace is a normal ten year old girl with normal ten year old thoughts, there are rare occasions when she feels like someone who really _had _been alive for the better part of four decades.

This is one of those times. She and her Papa are on their way to a city council meeting, and that fact in and of itself might be reason enough for the heavy feeling in the atmosphere. Council meetings always meant something bad was at hand, and, although Papa never told her what happened inside the school with the adults while the children played outside, Grace could always count on her friend Henry to tell her everything he knew.

Henry was always her favorite friend, even before the curse broke. She could barely remember the years before she knew him, but when he came to her class, life was definitely more interesting. She regrets not making a stronger effort to befriend him sooner (he always seemed so lonely), but she was afraid of his mother. All the kids were. Even when there was a party where everyone was invited, the mayor _never_ let Henry go.

Grace is glad Henry lives with his new mom now. She can tell he's much happier with her, even with all the bad things that are happening now, and Princess Emma even lets him come play at her house sometimes. She loves those days especially, because while she had lots of friends when her name was Paige, she remember living alone in the forest with her Papa. Henry makes her think of what it must be like to have a brother.

A brother with the best gossip in town, as it turns out. Since his mom and grandparents are the ones who formed the city council, Henry hears things that Grace always fails to get her father to reveal. Henry was the one who told what that strange purple smoke was the day the curse broke: _magic._

Princess Emma broke the curse that was making everyone forget their old lives, and barely a few minutes later the violet cloud rolled through town and restored all the magic. Ever since, the mayor – no – the _Evil Queen_ has done everything in her power to keep the residents of Storybrooke under her control.

It hasn't been easy for her, though, thanks to the city council (Grace can't help but think proudly). As soon as the dust settled, so to speak, Snow, James and Princess Emma had pulled everyone together to help protect them from the Queen's mad rampage. With their help, the most she's been able to do is scare people.

Grace is especially grateful for the council, due to an incident that occurred with her father shortly after magic came to Storybrooke. The Queen came to their house, and though Papa sent her to her room, Grace hovered on the staircase to eavesdrop (she felt a little guilty for being disobedient, but she was scared of the Queen taking Papa away again). He called the Queen "Regina," and told her she "must be madder than I am" if she thought he'd do anything for her ever again. He said that if she ever came around to bother him again, he'd make sure she regrets it.

That night he took Grace to Princess Emma's house. She played with Henry while the adults talked (for a long time, it seemed). Finally, Emma agreed to give him a seat on the council.

Henry said his mom didn't like her Papa at first, but won't talk about why. It made Grace a little sad that someone so kind and beautiful would hate her father (someone equally kind and wonderful in every way, in her eyes anyway), but as the weeks passed, Emma seemed to warm up to Papa. Sometimes she would bring Henry over to play and they would talk for a while. The children always tried to listen to what the conversations were about, but inevitably Papa would catch them and make sure they went to Grace's room before talking again.

All in all, with her father happy, safe, and home with her again, her friend Henry just a phone call away, and all the stuffed rabbits she could ever want, Grace thought that, if it weren't for the Evil Queen, life would be pretty much perfect right now.

But it isn't. The air is heavy and smells like something dangerous (_magic_, Papa says), and Grace feels exactly her age as she and her father come up on the elementary school where the council meetings are held. Her gloomy mood only worsens when they reach the playground. She can see Henry there waiting for her, but their other two friends, Hansel and Gretel are absent.

Papa told her before they left why the meeting had been called tonight. The twins' father had gotten worried that the Queen was going to come after them (they, too, had some kind of bad history with her), and tried to leave Storybrooke with his family. But that part of the curse didn't break when they got their memories back, and so right when they reached the edge of town, Otto suddenly lost control of the car and crashed it. He was fine, but the twins both had to go to the hospital.

Grace was sad to hear about her friends, but still doesn't understand why the meeting was called. She is hoping Henry will have more information for her, but one look at him is all she needs to know that he's feeling very depressed. He is sitting on the front steps next to Miss Nova (Grace's favorite fairy) with his chin cupped in his hands and his eyes pointed down at the pavement. A nervous feeling takes root in her stomach; had something happened to Hansel and Gretel that Papa hadn't told her about? A tugging sensation on one of Grace's braided pigtails alerts her to her father trying to get her attention.

"Are you okay out here with Miss Nova?" Papa always asks that when he drops her off at the playground, but she doesn't know why. It's like he thinks she's scared to be alone, but really, she doesn't feel like she's... _important _enough to be in any danger. She's more worried about what goes on in the meetings themselves, and why Papa never talks about them.

"Yes, Papa," she replies obediently anyway. She's eager to talk to Henry and ease the anxiety she's begun to feel.

"Good girl," her father replies with kind of a half-smile. He bends down and kisses her forehead. "Be safe." That is another thing he's taken to saying anytime he's not with her. But Grace never worries. Miss Nova always keeps a close eye on the children. And she's a fairy – she has magic just in case the Queen tries something.

Papa goes inside, leaving the kids alone with Nova, but not for long. Henry looks up and gives Grace a significant look, tilting his head toward the dome-shaped jungle gym. It's their favorite haunt, where they go to talk about council meeting stuff. Normally, Hansel and Gretel would come with them – Hansel would be an endless stream of questions and Gretel would be shushing him, citing "operational security." Gretel took council meetings very seriously. She always talked about the four of them helping out the adults and joining the fight; they reach had a personal vendetta against the queen (except, maybe, Henry), but they could never find out enough about the meetings to do anything significant.

Their friends' absences are sorely felt as Grace and Henry crawl through the bars and make a little nest in the wood chips inside the dome. Grace waits what she feels is a respectful amount of time before leaning in conspiratorially and whispering, "So? What's going on? Are Hansel and Gretel okay?"

"Yeah, they'll be okay," Henry replies, picking at the wood chips idly to keep his hands busy. "That's what my mom says, anyway."

A heavy moment of silence passes between them as Grace waits for her friend to continue. The twins' promise of a full recovery is good news, certainly, but nothing to call a meeting for. There must be more to the story, but Henry isn't talking. "So..." she prods gently. "What's going on, why are we here?"

Henry sighs, tossing away the piece of wood he had been fiddling with. "The fairies are trying to heal them as best they can, but without their wands or any fairy dust, their magic just isn't strong enough to do much. Otto and some of the others think it's time to ask Rumpelstiltskin for help."

Grace pulls a face. She doesn't know much about the man with the funny name, but what she _has_ heard hasn't been good. Henry told her that he's a wicked and selfish man – that he has all the magic power to save everyone from the Queen, but he won't use it unless it can benefit him somehow. And Papa said that he once did "the imp" a favor, and that was the last time he hoped to deal with him ever again. When she asked why he wouldn't use the favor to protect them from the Evil Queen, he only said that he was saving it for when he had no other options. She thinks her Papa is more afraid of Rumpelstiltskin than the Queen.

"Why didn't the curse break?" Henry wonders out loud suddenly, looking out over the playground. "Why didn't everyone go back to the fairy tale universe? None of this would be happening if you had."

Now, Grace doesn't know much about the curse, only what Papa and Henry have explained to her (she still doesn't understand parts of it). She knows that time was frozen and that hardly anyone had their memories, and no one was allowed to leave Storybrooke. But Papa never mentioned going back to the forest where they used to live, and she honestly thinks he doesn't want to. She doesn't blame him – not that he knows, but she was aware of how sad it made him that they didn't have any money living in the forest. He did all he could to make her happy, and together they made the best of their lives, but it wasn't anything like what he had here.

Presently, she drapes an arm around Henry's shoulders, hoping it cheers him up a bit. "I don't wanna go back," she tells him firmly. "Papa doesn't either. We like it here. Besides..." She trails off, tilting her head slightly as she looks at him. "You're from here, right? Would you even be able to come with us? Cause if you can't, I _definitely_ don't want to go."

Henry looks up and he does look a little better. "I hadn't thought about that," he admits thoughtfully. "I don't really know. Maybe you're right, but still..." He sighs again before turning to her fervently. "Gretel was right. We gotta do something to help, we can't just wait around like this until something bad happens to one of us, right?"

"But what _can_ we do?" Grace asks apprehensively. Her Papa keeps such a close eye on her, she doubts she'd be of much use to anyone, and besides, they're only a couple of kids. What are they against the Evil Queen, where their parents have failed?

"I don't know," Henry replies and Grace is surprised to see a fiercely determined expression on her friend's face, "but if my mom's taught me anything it's that just because something sounds scary, and even if you don't think you're strong enough or brave enough or important enough, you still have to try!" He turns to her then, all fire and rebellion. "What do you say, Grace? Is Operation Gemini a go?"

Grace smiles in spite of herself. She squeezes his shoulders, her arm still wrapped around him affectionately. "It's a go!"


	2. Chapter Two: Emma

Emma doesn't know why she bothers coming to these council meetings. She's even more confused as to why her parents (it's still beyond weird to even _think_ the word) insist on her presence at each and every one. She's never felt more out of place in her whole life than she does sitting at one of the school desks that have been rearranged in Mary Margaret's (Snow's? _Mom's?_) old classroom to form the classic (and stereotypical) circle. Most times she sits as far back in her seat as possible, silently observing the rest of the group, and stammering in embarrassment whenever her opinion is asked for.

It's especially hard to find her voice today. On the one hand, she had been called out to the scene of the crash when it happened (yes, she kept her job as sheriff for no other reason than it is the last semblance of normalcy she has left in this brave new world). She saw first hand the extent of Ava and Nicholas's injuries and she knows the desperation the threat on your child's life can cause a person. She wouldn't want Henry lying in a hospital bed with Regina's left hand (her right being Sidney, of course) hovering over him all the time.

But then again, what does she know after all? She is sitting in a room full of people who talk about magic and curses as if they are the rule of things, calling each other by names she's only ever read about or seen in movies before, and trying not to fall into the trap of arguing amongst themselves over every little thing.

The council is a good idea in _theory_, Emma supposes, but really, it just seems like they don't _do_ anything. By now, she's heard plenty of stories about the little band of misfits her parents had to help them back in the fairy tale land (most of them are in the room now), and its obvious the council was meant to mimic that camaraderie. But Mary Margaret and David aren't queen and king in this world, they have no armies to command, no fortresses to hole up in and defend if Regina attacks. Worst of all, what little magic they have at their behest is weak and not effective against a direct assault.

Because, while the violet mist _did_ bring back some magic, it seems that different _types _of magic were affected in different ways. This room is full of people who, at one time, were probably very useful to have on one's side in a conflict, but are now little more than regular old human beings with schizophrenic tendencies. The Blue Fairy is just a woman with a smattering of "innate magic capabilities," Ruby no longer transforms into a scary monster every month, and Archie is definitely no cricket.

"Look, I'm just a simple woodcutter." Michael's (though his real name is Otto, and that always makes Emma laugh; Regina is an evil witch, but at least she has a sense of humor) voice is so tense Emma can't help but pay attention now. "I don't know how magic works. I've grown up all my life being told that fairies can do anything. That they are _made_ of pure magic. Now, how is it that a whole _group_ of fairies can't fix up my kids?"

All the heads turn to look at the Blue Fairy, who is looking exasperated to say the least. "I have told you before, Otto, as I have reminded everyone on this council before, we fairies are _not_ made of pure magic. We are naturally gifted in arcana, but we require a focus for more complicated and potent spells. That is why we use _wands._ And, once again, we are not in possession of our wands. The Evil Queen is most likely keeping them, and until we are able to recover at least one, then our magic will be stunted at best." She leans forward on her desk, piercing Michael with a look that crosses between sympathetic and irritated. "I know you are concerned for you children, but we are doing what we can and they are making considerable progress."

Michael also leans in now, mimicking the fairy's action, his eyes wide and fierce. "You know what else I was told growing up? That if you're not important enough for a fairy to pay attention to, then you can always go to Rumpelstiltskin, and he'll do anything for you."

Even Emma can hear the unsaid 'for a price.' Though, she doesn't need to point that out, as the room becomes a cacophony of protests, so she returns to simply observing her fellows.

Mary Margaret is among those trying to talk Michael down, but her voice is getting drowned out by the men's arguments and it is obviously frustrating her. Of all the people Emma has met in Storybrooke, Mary Margaret is the one she's had the most trouble adjusting to changing. The mousy school teacher she had come to know was nothing like the woman she is supposed to call her mother. Emma learned with a quickness just _why_ Regina had changed Snow into something more... non-threatening. If she thought she had seen who Mary Margaret really was when she scolded Emma for trying to leave with Henry... well, it was nothing compared to the lecture she got about the council's role in providing hope to a despairing Storybrooke.

David was an even bigger surprise. Before coming to town, Emma had never seen a man strike out so badly with a woman. Now, she's seen just _why_ his nickname is Charming. It almost amuses her... until she realizes he's her father. Then, inevitably, she has to excuse herself for feeling like she's watching something she shouldn't be.

"But how do you even know the wands work now?" Michael shouts over the din, clearly getting increasingly angry with the rest of the council. "I don't want to risk my skin getting back your stupid fairy wand if it won't even work. Rumpelstiltskin -"

"Other magical objects appear to have been restored to full capacity," Archie chimes in, with a look at the Blue Fairy (she, too, appears as though she's about to lose her patience). "There's no reason to assume that the wands _won't_ work. If we can get them back, that is."

Emma can understand Michael's point, but then, the council does have a few magic items in their possession and testing them was one of their top priorities after the curse was broken.

It was that fact alone that Jefferson came to be counted among them. He is easily the quietest person on the council (aside from herself). She gets the sense that, like she, he feels out of place among the group, though for entirely different reasons. No one in the council really cares for him much. Mary Margaret told David about what Jefferson had done to her and Emma the night she made her ill-fated escape from jail. Then he in turn told everyone else, and from that moment on Jefferson became a pariah amongst martyrs.

Emma, herself, had drawn her gun on him the night he suddenly appeared on her doorstep asking for amnesty and protection from the council, though she quickly put it away when she saw he had his daughter with him. It was that fact more than anything that calmed and reminded her that this was just another person driven to madness by Regina's curse. She apologized for not believing him, and he apologized for kidnapping, drugging, and threatening her at gunpoint (even _he_ admitted he had more to beg forgiveness for). Since then they had a shaky understanding of one another.

Loathe as she is to admit it, Emma actually feels a kindred soul within him. He came to her out of fear for the safety of his daughter. He admitted to an ugly history with Regina, and considering the woman's habit of targeting those of her enemies with children, Emma felt it was irresponsible to turn him away. He earned his seat through his possession of the magic hat. He, of course, refused to use it (and after rereading his story in Henry's book, Emma can't really fault him for that), but the fact that he alone can work it was enough for the Blue Fairy to convince Mary Margaret and David to give Jefferson a seat.

Though, four meetings later and he still has yet to contribute any useful ideas or voice an opinion on anything. Mary Margaret was quick to say that behavior is suspicious, but Emma disagrees. The man knows he's hated by nearly everyone in the room and he's not eager to paint an unnecessary target on his back by speaking up when he's not wanted in the first place.

Emma actually knows that feeling well. Not everyone on the council is elated with _her_ either, as it happens. She remembers, with a stab of guilt, the first time she spoke to Marco after the curse broke. He had come to her asking after August. He must have realized that the man who volunteered to work in his shop was, in fact, the son he sent away with the newborn princess in the wardrobe.

It was one of the more difficult things Emma has ever had to do in her life, explaining to Marco that his son is now laying in a bed Granny's, composed completely of wood and showing no signs of life whatsoever. And for no other reason that Emma had so desperate not to believe the truth.

Or at least, that's how Marco sees it. No matter how many times her parents warned him to lay off her, or Archie reminded him that August's own selfish behavior contributed to his condition, or Emma herself apologized and swore to put things right, Marco blames her for his son's petrification. Archie, for his part, is more understanding, at least, though Emma can tell that he, too, is hurting for August.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not!" Michael's voice is echoing off the classroom walls, making everyone in the room wince slightly, and rousing Emma once more from her reflections. "These are my children we're talking about, not some stupid selfish request! Why _shouldn't_ I give up anything for them?"

"The fairies have healed most of the damage," Mary Margaret replies gently, sparing half a glance to the only fairy in the room for confirmation, "the rest of their injuries will heal naturally over time, with the aid of modern medicine. There's no need to -"

"No _need_?" Michael repeats, incredulous. "_Need_ I remind you, they are staying at the hospital where Regina's damn lapdog works? Anything can happen to them there! And he won't let me take them home until he's 'satisfied they have made a full recovery.' He could keep them there for months, on Regina's say so! We need a better solution than the fairy's shit-for-magic!"

Emma has to agree with him on that point. She, herself had gone to the Blue Fairy straight away after that first confrontation with the woodcarver. If anyone could fix August, it was the one who turned him into a real boy in the first place, right? It was the first time Emma had properly met the woman who, in Storybrooke, had been the Mother Superior, and, she must admit, she still isn't that impressed. For someone who was once the most powerful creature in the enchanted forest (according to her parents, anyway), Emma finds the fairy to be pretentious, self-righteous, and completely useless for Emma's purpose without her wand. Not that that fact stopped her from going on a tirade about Marco's decision to put August in the wardrobe, instead of giving his spot to Mary Margaret, or how August's own selfishness is the cause for his current condition.

Needless to say, if it weren't for Mary Margaret being there to calm her down, Emma is certain she would have slapped the bitch. And this is the woman the council looks to for magical guidance and protection.

"Otto, are you familiar with my father?" Kathryn suddenly asks, and the room quietens to let her speak. Emma, herself, doesn't actually know much about Kathryn's old life. She knows her name is actually Abigail and she's married to some guy named Frederick (not names Emma recognizes from any fairy tale _she_ knows), but beyond that the woman is a mystery. In spite of herself, she leans forward slightly, paying more attention than she had the entire meeting.

"Of course," Michael replies, frowning. "All poor folk talk of his gift and wish it was theirs."

"Well, you wouldn't if you knew all the details," Kathryn says with a scowl. "My father was a poor man, too, once. A farmer who's crops always failed. I was just a baby when my elder brother died of a sickness that was curable, if only my family had the means to pay for a healer." The man sitting next to her, Frederick, puts his arm around his wife as she continues to tell her tale. "After that my father went to Rumpelstiltskin, looking for a spell that would make us rich, so we would never hunger or want for anything ever again." The woman's look darkens slightly. "You know what they say about good intentions. The imp granted my father's wish, of course, but at a price."

"He can turn anything he wants into gold," Michael cuts in, grumbling, and its at that moment that Emma realizes the character to which they are referring. "He could pay any price asked of him."

But Kathryn shakes her head. "Rumpelstiltskin asked for nothing in return. The price my father paid was nothing material and was of value to no one. But, dark magic takes something from you when it's used, something you don't realize you'll miss until it's gone. In my father's case, the curse robbed him of knowing the sensation of _touch_ ever again. He couldn't hold me with his bare skin. He couldn't embrace or kiss my mother. In the end it drove her away. He tried to fill the hole left within him with gold and jewels. He bought himself a whole kingdom, complete with servants and subjects, but ultimately he died alone and heartsick. His last request was to hold my hand with his naked flesh while he passed away. I had to deny him."

A tense moment of silence overcomes the room while Kathryn composes herself. When she speaks again her voice is a little more hoarse than when she started. "So, you can ask Rumpelstiltskin to heal your children, even though they will recover on their own with time. But, will it really be worth it if he takes away your ability to hold them, or look on them, or _love _them?"

No one feels much like talking after that. Michael agrees to wait for a while to see how the twins' conditions progress before making any rash decisions regarding Mr. Gold. The meeting breaks up and Emma is among the first to hurry for the door. She's not sure if it's Kathryn's story getting to her or not, but she's eager to get back to Henry.

She's halfway down the hall on her way outside when someone with a considerably longer stride suddenly comes to her side.

"Looks like you had the same idea I did, Princess."

Emma doesn't have to look up to know it's Jefferson. She wants to protest the notion that he could possibly know what she's thinking, but annoyingly enough, he probably does. So, instead, she fixes him with an irritated look. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that."

"You have?" Jefferson says with a mock surprised expression. "It must have slipped my mind." He grins at her when she rolls her eyes, but thankfully he quickly changes the subject. "How's Henry taking all this? I know he is friends with the twins."

"So is Grace," Emma reminds him before heaving a sigh. "He's pretty upset. I think he sorta blames himself, in a weird way. Like, he thinks anything Regina does is his fault, his... _responsibility_. Is that normal?" The question slips out before she can stop it, and she hates that she sounds so unsure of herself, so vulnerable.

"Regina raised him for ten years," Jefferson replies heavily. "That's plenty of time to get in his head, confuse his emotions, and mess him up for who knows how long. Besides," he adds darkly, looking more like the man who once kidnapped her than h ever had since getting Grace back, "she's going out of her way to make everyone know she's doing this all for _him_. It's like she hopes to guilt him into voluntarily coming back to her, or that you'll decide he's not worth it and give him up. But all she's doing is proving she has no right to him whatsoever."

Emma doesn't really need to be reassured in that regard, but she's grateful nonetheless. They don't speak anymore as they come out to the playground. Nova is sitting alone on the steps, her eyes glued to the jungle gym under which Henry and Grace are sitting, apparently deep in conversation. "Kids!" She calls out as Emma and Jefferson join her. "Time to go!"

It is with a certain hesitation that the two pry themselves apart and start making their way towards their parents. Despite her history with the Hatter, that Henry is now able to have a close friend in his daughter, Emma is glad for his presence on the council.

"So, what happened?" Henry asks the moment he is within earshot. "Are you gonna talk to Rumpelstiltskin?"

"I'll tell you all about it on the way home, kid," Emma replies, ruffling her son's brown hair affectionately. In doing so, she is reminded of Kathryn's story and is suddenly much more appreciative for such a small yet intimate gesture.

"You know, you really shouldn't tell him about the meetings," Jefferson says with a frown, his own arm wrapped around his girl's shoulders. "Some of that stuff is just not meant for children to hear."

"I know _that_," Emma responds, resentful that he thinks she's not aware of that fact. "But Henry's the reason I'm here, he deserves to know at least some of what's going on." Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her son smile up at her. "And besides," she adds in a more casual tone to clear the air, "what's the worst that can happen anyway?"


	3. Chapter Three: Belle

The stream of the shower beats a steady rhythm against the walls of the master bathroom, creating a relaxing sort of atmosphere in the bedroom next door. Belle doesn't care for most of the so-called "modern conveniences" of this world, but the shower is something she can appreciate. She rolls over in bed, breathing in the soapy perfume that is permeating the air through the bathroom's cracked door, and has half a mind to join her lover. But, they've only just had each other and she doesn't trust herself (or Rum) enough to resist the temptation of a second spate of lovemaking. Instead, Belle decides to roll out of bed, slip into a silky soft robe, and go downstairs to start a pot of tea.

Rumpelstiltskin has told his beloved on more than one occasion that he doesn't want her waiting on him in this new land. That their relationship may have started as that of master and servant, but now he has every intention of treating as the goddess of beauty and goodness he knows her to be.

Belle can't help but roll her eyes when he says things like that. She knows good and well he's trying to make up for the manner of their separation back in the old world, and frankly it's kind of off-putting to hear her sardonic old imp suddenly wax romantic. However, she's even more perturbed about his behavior since her escape from the asylum and the breaking of the curse.

"Magic is power," he had said as the purple cloud enveloped them.

She could have slapped him right then, but she settled for yanking her arm out of his grip and having it out right there in front of the well. She must admit, her vehement reaction was partially based in things she had been wanting to say since he threw her out of the Dark Castle the last time they laid eyes on one another. He let her shout herself hoarse at him, probably sensing it was therapeutic for her. When she ran out of things to yell about, Rumpelstiltskin took her in his arms and she didn't even fight him.

Seven words whispered in her ear and her anger stilled – at least long enough to make it back to Rum's present day home. It was there that he told her everything he had been afraid to reveal to anyone for far longer than she has known him: his magic, his _curse_, how he really lost his son. And how they came to be in Storybrooke. Most importantly, he admitted that he is fallible and makes mistakes, even to this day. He asked Belle to help him put everything right, to bring things back to the way they should be. He would trust her, if only she could trust him.

How could she say no?

A low rumble of thunder rends the still night air as Belle wends her way downstairs and into the kitchen. In her previous life, she might have thought the sound to be distant, as if from a storm that is on it's way but not quite present yet. But she's experienced her fair share of storms in the new world. Storybrooke has it's own weather patterns, and the tempests are not that of wind and rain.

_Regina must be in a foul mood tonight,_ she thinks to herself, momentarily struggling with lighting the gas stove (the wood-burning oven she had back home was far easier to understand). _When will she learn no one is impressed with her tantrums?_

Rum always laughs when the queen rages like this. "Let her stew in the bitterness of her defeat," he said at the beginning, when Belle first came home with him. "Let her _think_ she's hit rock bottom. And _then_, only then, I will slowly and painfully rob her of everything she has left. She hasn't yet even begun to fathom the crushing blow I will deal her. She will feel _every moment_ of pain she caused me, caused _you._"

It almost frightens Belle when Rumpelstiltskin talks about his revenge. She, by no means, has love for Regina, but she sometimes wishes her lover would let go of his vendetta, if only because it might soothe some of the darkness that clings to his soul. She understands his need for magic and power; he took great pains to explain in it great detail to her. She understands the struggle he goes through every day, as he wrestles with the marriage of his true disposition to the curse of the Dark One. She understands why he must live with that slow and steady torture. She would not ask him to change, now that she _knows_. But his hatred of Regina is unbridled and barely restrained by his better nature. She hopes for Storybrooke's sake that the Queen makes no attempt to stoke his ire once more.

Presently, a pair of warm hands touch her hips at the same moment a hot, scratchy kiss is pressed against her ear. "I thought I told you no more serving girl behavior," Rum whispers, though it's more of a growl, really. She isn't given the opportunity to react before his hands move from her waist and around to her navel, slipping inside her loosely tied robe to caress her bare skin.

"It's just tea," Belle protests, repressing a shiver and leaning back against her lover's lean frame. Despite just getting out of the shower, the dark and _sensual_ scent of magic clings to his skin. "Serving girl or not, I know what you like."

"Mmm, that you do, my dear," comes his soft reply, and Belle's cheeks warm slightly at the implication (that is certainly not what she had meant). He shifts the hand inside her robe upwards and cups a breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. When she gasps in reply, he emits a soft chuckle in her ear. "Let's go back to bed, sweet. I cannot leave you wanting like this, if something so simple elicits such a reaction."

"You're a wretch," Belle says as she squirms out of his grip. "Don't pretend that you don't use magic to make me feel –" the color in her face darkens a bit more as she struggles to articulate her thoughts, "_that._"

Rumpelstiltskin adopts an expression of mock surprise, remarkably like the one he performed for her father on the first day they met. "Me? Use magic for something so _improper_? Madame, you wound me!"

The woman simply returns her attention to the tea, discreetly tightening her robe when she turns her back. Her lover takes a touch too much pleasure in teasing her when she is least ready for it, and she doesn't trust herself to not burn the house down if he distracts her from the stove.

A flash of purple lightning streaks across the sky then, filling the kitchen with a surreal sort of light for a moment. Rumpelstiltskin lifts his eyebrows in mild expression. "Well, someone's throwing a tantrum, isn't she?" He chuckles and seats himself at the table, while Belle finishes preparing their tea. "Maybe she's just learned that those fairy witches were successful in their protective enchantments on the children. Not that they didn't have help, of course..."

Belle rolls her eyes to herself. Rum is baiting her to ask just what he means so that he can impress her with his philanthropy, but she knows better. She is well familiar by now with his long standing hatred of fairies, yet stronger still is his compassion for _children_. When she heard of the young twins' injuries, she knew her Rum wouldn't leave them lie in the care of the fairies and Regina's modern medicine accomplice. Furthermore, ensuring their safety would frustrate the Queen, and that is something he delights in on a daily basis. So, she ignores him, and continues with her task of pulling down their favorite tea mugs, the sugar bowl, and pouring the tea itself.

"I wonder if I should have informed their father of their condition before he attended that silly little council meeting," Rumpelstiltskin continues, louder now and clearly annoyed that his first tease didn't earn a bite.

This time, Belle does turn with a frown. "Rum," she scolds, setting his mug down in front of him and taking her seat across from him, "you would leave that poor man in fear for no reason?"

"There's always a _reason_, dear," he replies slyly. "I was hoping our friend, the woodcutter, would persuade his charming patrons -" he pauses for a moment to appreciate his own pun, "to join our cause, but alas, it seems he has failed." The imp heaves an impressive (to the point of being sarcastic) sigh and takes a long drink from his mug.

Belle isn't swayed by his long-suffering act. She knows he does it simply to amuse her. "Well maybe if you would actually _tell_ people what your cause is, then maybe -"

But Rumpelstiltskin's demeanor has changed almost too fast for her to notice. The dry humor is gone from his face as he fixes her with a piercing look that chills her. "No, Belle," he says firmly. "I told you everything about the deepest, darkest secret of my long life as a show of love and devotion _to you_. It is something I keep close to the chest for safety and protection." He leans forward across the table and cups her cheek in his hand tenderly. "You saw first hand how the Queen treats those who are close to me. I cannot take that risk again. Do you understand?" He waits until she nods before releasing her, relaxing back into his chair once more. When he speaks again, his voice is light and the air is clear. "Besides, that fairy bitch knows. If she wants to tell, I suspect she will."

Ah, yes, the Reul Ghorm. All fairies are 'witches' to Rumpelstiltskin, but _she_ is the only one he calls 'fairy bitch.' Belle makes no comment in response and instead sips her tea quietly. She's heard his violent rants against the woman (for she is merely a woman now, as he so frequently loves to point out, as he fingers her wand with a sort of hateful fondness), and knows well enough not to breach the subject herself.

The only real mystery is why the Blue Fairy _hasn't_ revealed Rum's secret (he is confident he will know when she does). Perhaps she doesn't think it is relevant to the situation at hand, or maybe she is simply saving it for a moment when it will benefit her most (Rum has assured Belle that the bitch isn't above such tactics).

Until she met Rumpelstiltskin, until she heard the extent of his story, Belle had always thought the fairies were kind, beautiful creatures whose only goal was to better the world in any way they could. She's not quite as convinced as her lover is that she is the worst creature known to either world, but she can't help but agree that the only one who knows just what the Blue Fairy's _true_ goal is, is the Blue Fairy alone.


	4. Chapter Four: Genie

Being Regina's most trusted confidant and right hand man is an unsettling jobs these days. In the old world, the Queen was calculating, cold, and for the most part, quite collected. Displays of emotion were not common, and more often than not, the Genie-in-the-mirror found, were faked to elicit the reaction that she wanted at the time. She was quite skilled at that, really. It had worked on him, after all. And so many others, as he witnessed in the last few years of his entrapment before the curse was enacted. Not once did his love for her wane. He's not sure if it is possible for it to – perhaps the magic that bound him to the mirror cursed him with an eternal love for a woman he was forced to watch live a life without him. In either case, he came to appreciate his Queen's cunning, the shrewd way she manipulated people, and even the cold bitterness of her heart as she both sought revenge and nurtured her love of power.

Perhaps she knew this, and it was for that reason that she let him keep his memories when she used the dark curse to bring them to the new land. It was a risk, of course. He was not tied to her so irrevocably like he once was, and without her magic she couldn't form a contingency plan if he chose to betray and abandon her. Yet, Sidney Glass loved Regina Mills in the same way the Genie loved the Queen. In fact, he probably benefited the most from the curse's enactment. He was alive again – no longer bound to a mirror. He could still stand by his love, give her council and aid when she needed it, and relish the idea that he, above all others, was still the one she turned to with all her secrets. He ached for her to reciprocate his love, but his time spent as a mirror had taught him not to hope.

Everything is different now. His Queen is no longer the calm and cool mistress of manipulation she once was. Something inside her broke when the curse lifted and her son was stolen away by the savior. She had been clinging to him so desperately, hinging so much of her soul on him, that losing him damaged her, perhaps even beyond repair. She no longer executes carefully laid plans with thoughtfulness and precision, but strikes out at her enemies at random, targeting those who have the smallest connection to her, inventing or exaggerating the tiniest of grievances as reasons for her attacks. She never could claim many loyal followers, but those she still had she betrayed immediately, taking their hearts and keeping them in her hidden mausoleum so that they had no choice but to do her bidding. The Genie was spared from this fate and he can only assume it is because, insane though she may be, the Queen realizes that his love for her is one of her strongest assets.

Because, despite it all, he does still love her. She frightens him, but he loves her. No matter how far she might descend into her madness, he will always be at her side, trying to save her from it.

Though, 'saving her' feels more like submitting to the unchecked power and magic that rules her now. Yes, being the Queen's right hand man is not a job for the faint of heart, when the screams of a (literally) heartless subject are echoing off the walls in her office. The doctor's usefulness in the magical, post-curse Storybrooke was always limited. He had no magic and no real power over the citizens of the village. He clung to his fake profession like a lifeline, and had to constantly remind the Queen of his loyalty to her during the curse. It was the only thing that had kept him alive until now. But with his most recent failure, his time was up. The Genie chose to look away when it was happening, instead gazing upon the violet storm that always seems to kick up when the Queen is in a particularly volatile mood. Is that the instability of magic in this land, or of the Queen herself?

When it is all over, Regina transforms the dead man's body into a crystal whale figurine (an homage, he supposes, to his Storybrooke life) and sets it dispassionately on her desk. "I need a new lover," she comments suddenly as she takes her seat, and the Genie recoils slightly from the notion. He had his suspicions, of course, that the doctor had offered his body in exchange for his life, yet he had hoped to remain ignorant from the truth of it. First the Huntsman, now the doctor. And never himself.

The djinn shakes such thoughts from his mind for the moment. He had thirty long years of wondering why she never took him to her bed when he was would jump at the chance to please her, but now was the time to focus on the problem that plagued her, lest he incur her wrath. "Rumpelstiltksin again, my Queen," he begins slowly, "and he's becoming more belligerent. He stood nothing to gain from healing those children, especially when it meant involving himself with the fairies. This was a personal and direct affront to you." A personal affront, because the Queen covets those children. It had been her intention to offer herself as their mother once again, but only if the doctor had been successful in barring their recovery and thus immediate return to their father.

Regina's eyes flick to the mirror on her desk, and the Genie knows she is checking to see if the imp has made the mistake of uncovering one of his own mirrors. Admittedly, the Queen could use with a new trick as her current method of divination is well suspected by not only Rumpelstiltskin, but Snow and her companions as well. But, he's not about to point that out when the Queen's is feeling particularly violent, so he simply waits for her response. "We need that dagger," she says finally, her voice venomous, and for once the Genie agrees with her obsession.

The dagger is something she's been aware of since the old world, though how she managed to find out about it is something she hadn't shared with her mirror. Back then, she considered it a waste of time, especially when she learned of the imp's infatuation with his maid servant. Even when the girl proved incapable of breaking Rumpelstiltskin's curse (thus neutralizing the threat he posed to Regina's power), the Queen still found use of her as a prisoner. The girl refused to give up any information about her former master – something that earned her routine torture – but still Regina chose not to free her. It seemed she was certain the young princess would be of use someday.

All that changed the day magic returned. The Queen came down to free the Genie from the life-sentence that had been passed down on him (an occupational hazard of being her devoted servant), and on whim decided to check on her pretty young trump card. The Genie had been in cell right next to her's, yet he had no idea who it was that swept into the hidden part of the hospital and walked out with the imp's lover unimpeded. What he _does_ know, however, is that Regina has a very slow and painful death planned for that special person – she talks of it many times in graphic detail until even _he_ cannot bear to listen anymore.

Since then, in her rare moments of clarity, the dagger has been her focus. With it, not only would Rumpelstiltskin's meddling be curtailed, but she could use him to turn the tide for her. His magic would bring not only her son back to her, but return the control of Storybrooke and its citizens back to it's rightful owner.

But progress on locating the knife is, well, limited at best, and non-existent in reality. Any actual searching for it is far too tedious for the Queen, and she loses focus, preferring the instant gratification of erratic and unplanned attacks upon her most immediate annoyances. For his part, the Genie has done what he can to research the existence of the Dark One's dagger, and even managed to produce a drawing of it from the unfortunate puppet man's room at the Inn.

It stands to reason that the boy, once called Pinocchio, now named August, knew something about it, but he is useless in his current condition. The djinn once asked his Queen if it was possible to reanimate the man, but she refused so vehemently that he dare not breach the subject again. Perhaps it was the writer's involvement with Emma's quest to take Henry away, or that Regina simply would never do something that would make anyone happy, even if she benefited from it.

"That we do, my Queen," the Genie finally replies heavily, "but the imp continues to hold his cards close to the chest. We have no leverage against him at the present time, no knowledge of his plans, and no one with the intelligence we need to even take a step in the right direction."

Regina says nothing after this little report, a dark and devious expression on her face. She remains silent for so long, that the Genie wonders if she's even still thinking about the dagger at all, or if she's only just conceived of a new way to torment the frightened populace of her village. Finally, she leans forward in her chair and rests her elbows on her desk, her fingers steepled and pressed to her lips. "It is time I go back to the original source of my information," she says slowly and thoughtfully, in a way that piques her servant's interest in a brand new way.

The Genie lifts his eyebrows; he is _very_ curious as to just how Regina learned of the imp's most closely guarded secret. "And who is that, my Queen?"

She hesitates a moment then, almost as if she is reticent to utter the name aloud. "Reul Ghorm," she says in a tone of voice suggests that this is a dangerous and infamous creature, though the Genie has honestly never heard of it before.

"What –" he begins to ask, but is cut off abruptly.

"It is none of your concern," Regina snaps coldly. "You will say nothing of this to anyone, do I make myself clear?" She doesn't wait for him to answer and instead pushes herself to her feet. "We are done for this evening."

Perplexed, the Genie, too, rises from his seat and turns to leave. Whoever this _Reul Ghorm_ is, it must be a powerful arbiter of ancient secrets, if it holds knowledge over the centuries old imp and can frighten his Queen into silence. He wonders why he has never heard of it before, for in all his years of slavery to the lamp such a power had never been named.

"Where are you going?" The Queen asks suddenly and the Genie is a little put off at just how _inviting_ her voice sounds, quite a change from just a moment before. A cold hand touches his shoulder, paralyzing him – not with magic, but his own natural apprehension and even _fear. _His anxiety only increases when the hand slides down to his back. He's never seen Regina take a heart from behind before, it didn't occur to him that it was even possible. Well, until now. Is he about to pay the price for hearing the name she uttered so fearfully?

The hand lingers just a moment, then continues moving down to the small of his back, and he finally feels comfortable enough to turn slightly to look at her. "You have further need of me, my Queen?"

Regina's smile is something he hasn't seen turned on him since that first deception when they met – the lie that she could actually have feelings for him in return. "Well, I said I need a new lover, didn't I?"


	5. Chapter Five: Blue Fairy

It's been one hell of a roller coaster week for the Blue Fairy. First, the unannounced and unasked for aid from Rumpelstiltskin in healing Hansel and Gretel. The fairy wholeheartedly expected the imp to demand some kind of repayment for his "good deed." But as the days passed in silence, Reul Ghorm breathed easier. She concedes, it's not really Rumpelstiltskin's style to help first and ask questions later. No, he'd rather sit back in the shadows and watch while his victims grow increasingly desperate, either waiting to be called on or choosing to reveal himself at the perfect moment when the poor souls are most likely to to give him whatever he wants in exchange for a a wish. It had almost been the case with Otto, until Princess Abigail's much needed and heart felt plea to the contrary.

The council members were shocked to hear the next morning that the children were released from the hospital, totally and completely healthy. It was suspicious to no one but herself, and when her fellow fairies informed her of Rumpelstiltskin's involvement she made the executive decision to keep that piece of information under their wings as long as possible. Gods forbid the rest of the council learn that the imp is now performing miracles free of charge. They'd surely start considering his aid and possible partnership much more seriously, and that's the last thing any of them needs. In fact, that's probably why he did it, come to think of it. Wretched imp.

Unfortunately, Rumpelstiltskin's sudden and unexplained involvement in the council's affairs is only the beginning of the Blue Fairy's worries. The very next evening after the twins went home, she was called on by none other than Rumpelstiltskin's more predictable (but no less dangerous) counterpart. Honestly, she somewhat expected it. Regina has been a loose canon since the curse lifted, her magic just as wild and erratic as she is. Whenever a storm brews in Storybrooke these days, one can count on Regina's displeasure. The cause for her tantrum this week was all the fairy needed to suspect that it would only be a matter of time before she would be summoned to the Queen's office.

However, Reul is no longer a fairy and no longer bound to answer Regina's call, and so she avoided it. Whatever Regina wants, the Blue Fairy has no interest whatsoever in involving herself in it, _especially_ if it is a matter of Rumpelstiltskin, like she fears. She once made the mistake of providing Regina with valuable information about the imp's curse, only to have it backfire quite spectacularly. Its not an incident she's looking to repeat.

And, anyway, the third and most pressing problem at hand presented itself shortly thereafter. It is the reason that the Blue Fairy finds herself on the way to the savior's home this late in the evening. It isn't considered wise for people to be out after dark these days. Especially not for someone who has made enemies of both the Evil Queen _and _Rumpelstiltskin. She is but a woman in this world, after all. A woman with some rudimentary magic and a reputation, of course, but less than what she was, what she could be with her wand. Should an attempt be made on her life, she would not be able to defend herself. But the Blue Fairy holds her head up high as she marches purposefully down the empty street. This is_ her_ domain and she does not fear.

The street is silent and empty, in any case, and if Rumpelstiltskin wanted to kill her he would have done it a long time ago. The remainder of the walk to the little apartment building behind the diner is uneventful. Only one light is on at the Inn: the room in which unfortunate Pinocchio resides. It is because of him that she is making this journey in the first place. She pities the boy, she does, but she should be focusing her attention on the safety and protection of the citizens who are not lying as if dead right now.

The apartment the savior shares with her young son isn't showing many signs of life itself, but the Blue Fairy knocks anyway. She'd expected this. Normally she would prefer to have this kind of meeting at the king and queen's home on the other side of town, but they refuse to leave Emma out of the loop and she, in turn, refuses to leave her boy at home alone. So, instead, whenever there is need for private meetings, they are held late at night in the savior's home, both for secrecy and to ensure young Henry doesn't try to listen in.

After a moment Emma opens the door, and the Blue Fairy notes the look of mild irritation on the savior's face. She knows the woman has little patience and even less understanding of the need for the council, particularly when it interrupts her life with Henry. The boy, for his part, laps it up, and is always trying to eavesdrop on the meetings or help out the adults in any way he can. The Blue Fairy appreciates his enthusiasm, but this is not a war for children to fight.

"Is Henry sleeping?" She asks presently as Emma steps back to allow her inside. Snow and James are already sitting at the little table in the breakfast nook, their hands clasped together and each wearing matching expressions of concern. What few lights that are on are dim and the old apartment building is eerily silent.

"Yeah," comes the savior's mumbled response, "so if we can keep it down and get this over with, that'd be great."

The fairy sighs at Emma's exasperation; maybe once she's heard about the problem at hand she'll be a little more understanding. She decides it best not to linger with pleasantries and gets straight to the point. "Very well. Gepetto came to see me this afternoon with an ultimatum." She points her gaze directly at Snow and James before she continues, knowing what she is about to say will impact them more than it will Emma. "He says that if we do not find a cure for his son's condition, and soon, then he will be selling his woodworking skills to Rumpelstiltskin in exchange for one."

Snow sighs and shakes her head, while James covers his mouth which is curled down in a disturbed frown. Emma, however, is the first to speak.

"Woodworking skills?" She repeats skeptically. "How is _that_ useful to _Rumpelstiltskin_?"

Reul Ghorm feels a stab of irritation; this is precisely the reason she prefers to address the king and queen directly, instead of involving their ignorant daughter. She simply doesn't understand the magnitude of the war on their hands. "Gepetto is the only woodcarver known to man capable of crafting with _living wood_." She is about to stop there when she spies Emma's confused expression, and she realizes further explanation is needed. "It's a naturally magical substance harvested from a special type of tree from our world. It has a sort of intelligence within it; a spirit, if you will. And one can only carve from this wood if it's spirit deems you worthy."

"I thought the wardrobe used the last living wood left in the world," Snow chimes in, frowning.

"It was," the fairy confirms with a nod. "Living wood is an ancient magic, and has been slowly dying out over the centuries. But, in this new land, the rules of magic are different. Who knows how magic affected the wildlife and wilderness of this world? If even one tree can be considered living wood, Rumpelstiltskin would know and have a plan for it, but he would need Gepetto to carve it. Which is why -" she looks briefly at the savior who appears to be listening with equal parts befuddlement and apathy, "we need to find a solution to Gepetto's problem, or we ourselves will be handing Rumpelstiltskin a useful ally."

A brief and heavy moment of silence hangs in the air, then James breaks it, businesslike as usual. "So, what can we do then? Do you have the power to change Pinocchio back?"

The Blue Fairy shakes her head, frowning. "No, of course not. That kind of magic is rare and takes a great bit of power and skill. Not all fairies are even capable of it. I'd need my wand, at the very least, to accomplish a reversal myself."

"So let's get one," Emma says, her voice strong and determined. "Regina's keeping them, right? We've been pussyfooting around long enough, it's time to actually _do_ something."

_At least her heart is in the right place_, the fairy thinks inwardly, _even if her head is not_. "We do not know if she does have them, nor where she might keep them. We know she did bring _some _artifacts from the old world, but she has been very clever in hiding them. I do not even know where to begin to look. Perhaps if -"

But she's cut off mid-sentence by Emma holding up a hand. The savior's eyes are pointed toward the staircase and she's clearly listening hard. Finally, her voice pierces the tense silence that has settled in the room. "Henry, don't think I don't hear you up there. You get your butt back in bed, or you're in serious trouble, kid."

The Blue Fairy hadn't heard any such noise, but, then she's not a parent. Quick and light footsteps are heard padding down the hall, followed by the slamming of a door. Emma sighs and shakes her head.

"Can we hurry this along, please?" She asks her three guests, exasperated. "What do we do?"

"I'm not certain there is anything we _can_ do, in terms of curing Pinocchio's condition," the fairy replies heavily. "Rumpelstiltskin has the upper hand, magically. I suppose we should try to -"

There, she's interrupted again, this time by Snow. "Rumpelstiltskin!" She exclaims. "We _know_ he has a fairy wand. He stole it from Cinderella's fairy godmother, remember?"

"But we don't know that he still has it," James reminds his wife, who shakes her head fervently in reply.

"Of course he does," she says insistently. "Have you seen his shop? It's full of all sorts of things from the old world. He even had Emma's mobile! If he had something like that, then there's no way he wouldn't have kept the _wand_."

"The problem remains," the Blue Fairy says loudly, bringing the attention back to herself, "of actually retrieving the wand. Knowing Rumpelstiltskin has one hardly gets us closer to it. Furthermore, his store and estate will be much better protected than any property of Regina's. Getting inside to search for it will be-"

"You're talking about stealing it?" Emma asks incredulously, her arms folded across her chest. "Why not just _ask _him for it?"

The Blue Fairy would laugh dryly, but she checks herself. It's not Emma's fault that she has only barely scratched the surface of Rumpelstiltskin's selfish and often ruthless deal-making. "That is not recommended," she settles for saying, in a tone of finality. "If he would even be willing to part with it, he would no doubt demand something we cannot afford to give."

"So you're not even gonna try? You'd rather just try to steal it?"

Reul looks at James and Snow for support, expecting them to help her talk their daughter down on the issue. However, after exchanging glances with one another, James speaks up with quite a different opinion indeed.

"I agree with Emma. He has his own agenda, it's true, but he's helped us all on a number of occasions. It's senseless to risk our lives trying to rob him, when we could very well just ask for his help."

The fairy can hardly believe what she's hearing; after all the centuries she's lived and worked to protect the world from whence they all came, knowing what the imp has done and is capable of still, and these people want to put their faith in _him_? "So," she says slowly and its a bit of a struggle to keep her voice even, "you trust him over me?"

"It's not about trust," Snow replies, looking at her husband and daughter for a moment. "This is about safety. You remember what he did to Maurice when he attempted to rob his house. And that was before magic! Trying the same now would be suicide."

To that, the Blue Fairy has no argument. She finds herself caught between a rock and a hard place, and in this situation, there just isn't room for common sense, apparently. "Very well," she concedes finally. "I hope you know what you are doing."


End file.
